


The Favor

by madjm



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8612581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madjm/pseuds/madjm
Summary: AU. Emma Swan doesn't do relationships, but her annoyingly attractive neighbor, Killian Jones, might change her views. Captain Swan. Previously on ffnet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The world probably doesn't need another neighbors AU, but I wrote one anyway. Blame "What's Your Number?" for sparking the idea (even though the fic is nothing like the movie, barring a couple little things). I don't really even like the movie that much, but it's worth seeing for three things: 1. Chris Evans, 2. Chris Evans naked, 3. Chris Evans in a suit. That's about it. You should also blame Erin for being an enabler. Also to blame is Colin O'Liferuiner, for Reasons. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it got out of hand, so I had to split it in two.

She's the one who started it.

Killian reminded her of that any time she bitched about him eating all her food or hiding out from his one-nighters in her apartment or insisting she watch another '80s movie or texting her dirty jokes and terrible pickup lines.

And she can't really argue, because it's the truth.

She only had herself to blame.

It was probably the smartest thing she'd ever done.

* * *

**MARCH**

The guy was going nowhere.

Emma hovered around the kitchen, watching over the breakfast bar as the guy — Walsh, she thought his name was — made himself right at home at her table, eating her Cocoa Puffs and making plans for them to visit some art gallery and take in a movie.

What the hell?

This was why she never brought her one-night stands to her apartment; she had no idea what she'd been thinking the night before. He was attractive enough, but Emma Swan didn't do art galleries and movies and dates with men. She had no interest in relationships. She was strictly a one-and-done kind of girl (or "fuck-and-duck," as her friend Ruby liked to say).

Yet here she was, with a guy in her apartment, a guy who was either oblivious to the numerous hints she was throwing out or who was determined not to hear her.

Finally finishing up his bowl of cereal, Walsh took a break from planning their future to go to the bathroom. Emma strongly considered making a run for it, but she was afraid to leave him alone in her apartment; he might decide to move in permanently while she was gone. Sighing, she pulled her door open to grab the newspaper, freezing as she saw her neighbor — her incredibly attractive and very nearly naked neighbor — bidding farewell to his latest conquest. She watched in horrified fascination as the obviously fake redhead with equally fake boobs appeared to be trying to suck his tongue right out of his mouth.

_Charming_.

The woman finally stopped swallowing his face and took her leave.

"Wow," Emma said, tapping the newspaper on her leg. "I bet she gives one hell of a blowjob."

The guy leaned against his doorframe and turned his eyes —his incredibly intense blue eyes — on her. She'd seen him before, of course, passing on the stairs or nodding to one another in the hall, but this was the first time she'd gotten the full effect — of the eyes, and everything else. She tried like hell to keep her eyes focused on his face but lost the battle, scanning the dark hair trailing down his perfect abs to where a towel was barely hanging on to his hips.

She was only human, after all.

_Lord have mercy_ , she thought, biting her lip, _the things I could do to him_.

"A gentleman never tells, love," he said, and she thought life was absolutely not fair that a man this gorgeous also had an English accent. He smirked, gaze zeroing in on her mouth. "However, should you like to see how your skills compare, I could be persuaded."

She rolled her eyes. Truthfully, she should probably be offended or creeped out, but she _had_ started it. And the guy was so hot that if he weren't her next-door neighbor she'd probably be over there in an instant, getting an up-close-and-personal look at what he was hiding under that towel.

_For fuck's sake, Emma. You've got a clingy one-nighter holding your apartment hostage, and you're talking oral sex with a complete stranger._

"You wish," she said, turning to go as he chuckled behind her. On impulse, she turned back around, catching him staring at her legs, reminding her that she wore nothing but a long sleep shirt and Hello Kitty slippers. "Though if you mean it about the gentleman thing, you could do me a slight favor?"

He stepped closer, near enough that she could see his skin was still damp from the shower. He smelled amazing, some warm and musky scent that tempted her to lean forward and see if he tasted as good as he smelled, an urge that she valiantly resisted.

"And what's in it for me?" he asked in a low voice, sparking a heat low in her belly without even touching her.

Of course. Of-freaking-course, this sex god who could do things to her with just his voice was someone who lived across the hall from her. Which made him 100 percent off-limits as far as she was concerned. She had a rule about these things.

She wrenched her eyes off his bare chest and tried to remember what they were talking about. Oh, right. What was in it for him?

"My eternal gratitude?" she offered. "The warm glow of aiding another human being?"

"I'm plenty warm, love," he said. "Some might even say _hot_. What else have you got?"

She sighed. "I could owe you a favor?"

"A favor." He grinned, tongue skimming his mouth in a borderline-obscene manner. So much for being a gentleman. Just the way he said "favor" made her think of dropping to her knees and shoving that towel out of the way ... _Good lord, Emma, focus_. "I like that. What would you have me do?"

* * *

She entered her apartment cautiously. Walsh was planted right back at her table, helping himself to another damn bowl of her cereal.

"Oh, the paper, great!" he said. "We can see what time the movie's playing."

_Who even looks at the paper for movie times anymore? Has he never heard of the Internet?_

"Listen … Walsh." She paused, just in case she had his name wrong. When he just nodded, she continued. "There's something I need to tell you. I didn't want to say anything before, but …"

On cue, the sex god of apartment 4A made his entrance. Her eyes widened as she turned to face him and realized that he still hadn't bothered to get dressed. Which wasn't a problem, exactly, except that he immediately invaded her personal space, leaning one arm on the breakfast bar next to her, putting all that bare, damp flesh well within touching distance.

"Sweetheart, you won't believe this, but I've no hot water in my shower. Mind if I use yours?"

"Um …" She could feel herself blushing as she fumbled for words, a condition she rarely found herself in and didn't enjoy in the slightest.

He grinned wolfishly, leaning in and nudging her nose with his. "You could join me, eh? Get all those hard to reach spots."

Before she could blink, she was picturing herself washing all that wild, dark hair, running soap-slicked hands over his skin and following her hands with her mouth.

She found herself almost hypnotized, swaying closer without really consciously deciding to, realizing that she may have made a slight miscalculation in inviting this guy into her home.

He winked at her and turned to face Walsh, who was like a statue, comically stuck with a spoon halfway to his mouth, watching. Her fake boyfriend straightened, narrowing his eyes at the other man. "Who's this, then?"

"Um, sweetie, this is Walsh. He's, uh, he's Ruby's boyfriend." She almost laughed at the way Walsh was nodding his head along with her lie. "We all got so drunk last night that they crashed here."

"And Ruby's …?" He raised his eyebrows, as though doubting her story, and she had to cover her mouth for a moment to stifle a laugh at Walsh's panicked look.

"Gone. She … she had to work."

"Ah." 4A leaned close again. "If you don't mind, mate, you can let yourself out? I need to borrow my girl here."

"Actually, I … I was just leaving," Walsh said, rushing to grab his jacket and shoes. 4A ducked his head into her neck, and she could feel him grinning against her skin (which was _not at all_ distracting and did _not_ make her think of sex in any way) as the other man hightailed it out of the apartment without another word.

"Oh. My. God." She laughed and pushed herself away from the bar — away from him. "Did you see his face?"

He laughed with her, wandering over to the table and pouring cereal into the empty bowl that Walsh had set out for her. "I think you'll have no more trouble with him, lass," he said.

"Yeah. You were really ... what the hell?" She took him in, sitting in the same place Walsh had been, shoveling her cereal into his mouth. "I just got rid of one stranger eating my Cocoa Puffs!"

"Aye. But at least I was invited. And I've not seen you naked." His eyes scanned her as he obnoxiously crunched his — _her_ — cereal. "Yet."

She snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, buddy, dream on."

"Oh, I shall, I assure you." His eyes lingered a moment longer on her bare legs before raising to hers as a grin played on his lips. "Perhaps you wouldn't be so eager to get rid of _me_ the next morning."

She shrugged. "Maybe not, but I have a firm policy of never sleeping with anyone I have to see again, so ..."

"Not the best idea to bring the poor fellow back to your place then."

"Yeah." She leaned back on the breakfast bar again, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know what I was thinking. Actually, that's not true. I was _thinking_ it would be a good idea to drink many, many shots of tequila."

She was thinking that all the tequila in Boston might take the edge off of running into her ex while he and his beautiful fiancee were inquiring about wedding cakes at Mary Margaret's shop. She was thinking that getting completely hammered might make her forget that she had never been enough for Neal Cassidy, or for anyone.

The guy finished the cereal and stood up; the towel was briefly endangered, and she closed her eyes as he tucked it back into place. She'd already seen too much, and she had a feeling he'd be playing the star role in her fantasies for a while even without seeing everything he had to offer.

"Ahh, tequila-impaired judgement; I've been there," he said, coming closer. "Once, my brother and I were at this pub and — bloody hell, is that the time?"

She followed his eyes to the clock on her wall. "Yep. About 10:15."

"I'm going to be late for work," he said, rushing for the door and slamming it behind him.

She waved sarcastically at the closed door and then turned to clean up after the cereal thieves.

"Bye! You're welcome for breakfast," she muttered, almost dropping a bowl when her door opened again.

"I'm Killian, by the way. Killian Jones."

She stopped and tilted her head, looking at him but not speaking.

"Come on, love. I like to know the name of women who owe me a favor," he said, raising his eyebrows.

She sighed. "Emma Swan."

"Swan," he repeated. "Suits you, love."

He shot her a grin before pulling the door shut behind him. She shook her head and clicked the deadbolt before dumping the bowls in the sink and grabbing a clean one. She frowned when she picked up the cereal box and peeked inside. Empty.

Of-freaking-course.

* * *

It was a week before she saw him again. Another Saturday morning, though this time she was blessedly alone — snuggled on the couch with a hot chocolate and watching a "Too Cute!" marathon on Animal Planet — when there was a knock at the door.

Pulling open the door, she wasn't surprised to see her neighbor, though she _was_ mildly surprised to see that he was dressed. Even wearing faded jeans and an untucked plaid button-down, he was unbelievably hot, making her feel like one of Cinderella's ugly stepsisters in her black leggings and Millennium Falcon T-shirt. She wasn't even sure if she'd brushed her hair that morning, though she thankfully had brushed her teeth.

"Jones."

"Swan, can I come in for a few minutes?" He looked back at his closed door. "I've a woman in there who seems inclined to stay a while. I told her I had a dentist's appointment."

She snorted. "Is this the favor I owe you?"

He grinned. "You must be joking. This is simply a visit with a friend. A friend bearing gifts?" From behind his back he pulled out a box of Cocoa Puffs.

She looked from his baby blues to the cereal box and back again before sighing and grabbing the box from him. "Lucky for you, I'm hungry and I've been too lazy to go to the store."

She threw the door wide to let him in. "Your lady friend didn't think it was weird that you took a box of sugary cereal to the dentist?"

"Eh, she's in the shower."

"Nice, duck out while she can't chase you."

"Don't tell me you haven't done the same."

She shrugged, pulling a couple bowls out of the cabinet. "Hey, I'm not judging. You know my rule on that anyway."

She offered him the box and turned to grab the milk out of the fridge.

"Rules were made to be broken, Swan," he said with a grin, dumping cereal in the bowl and pouring milk in it.

"Not my rules."

"So you're going to deny yourself the pleasure of getting me naked, eh? And it would be a pleasure, I assure you. Come on, love, I saw the way you were looking at me."

This time she was the one who stepped into his space. "Looking is fine," she said, trying to ignore the way her heartbeat sped up. "Looking's not against the rules."

"No?" His eyes scanned her body, coming back to linger on her lips while he licked his. "I'll have to remember that."

She clenched her fists, almost overwhelmed by the need to crash her mouth into his, and dammit, he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

The moment was broken as he took a bite of cereal and looked across the apartment. "What are we watching?"

"Huh?"

He was across the room and planted on her couch before she could really focus. "Swan, are you watching the puppy show?"

She poured milk into her cereal and stuck the carton back in the fridge. "What?" she asked defensively. "I like dogs. I don't trust a person who doesn't like them."

"Hey, I love dogs. I'd have one myself, but the pet fees in this building are outrageous."

"Tell me about it."

Exchanging a glance, they both turned toward the TV in sync. They watched mostly in silence as a litter of Portuguese Water Dogs got their first taste of the water and adorable Jack Russell Terriers gamboled around the screen.

"We could get one to share," Killian said finally.

"One, what? A dog?"

"Yeah, a dog. Shared custody. Of course, that might be challenging when I move out."

"You're moving out?"

"Well," he said with a laugh, "you won't sleep with me if we're neighbors, so …"

She threw a pillow at his head.

* * *

He stood at her door, batting his big blue eyes and holding a carton of her favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream.

"You are a stalker."

"I prefer dashing rapscallion," he said with a grin.

She sighed and glanced at his closed door behind him. "Another dentist's appointment?"

"What can I say? Oral health is important to me."

There were so many possible responses to that statement that she just stuck to rolling her eyes and grabbing the ice cream from his hand. "I'm assuming that this doesn't count as your favor, either?"

Jones just smiled and followed her inside.

* * *

Trudging up the stairs a few nights later, Emma considered the effort involved to get some dinner. Once she made it into her apartment, she was definitely not leaving again for at least 24 hours.

Killian was leaning on his doorjamb, watching with a smirk as she dragged her pathetic carcass the last few steps to her apartment.

"Swan."

"Jones."

"You look like hell."

"Well, thank you, Prince Charming. That's what every girl wants to hear." She frowned, turning her back on him and unlocking her door.

"Bad day at work?" He followed her into her apartment without invitation, but she decided it wasn't worth the effort to argue about it.

She headed for her bedroom, rolling her eyes as he followed right on her heels, poking around the room curiously.

"Actually, a great payday," she said, unzipping her boots and tossing them in the general direction of the closet. "But this one was a little more work than I like. These boots may be cute, but they are not made for chasing down perps."

"Are you some sort of cop?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Bail bondsperson."

"Mmmm, Swan, that's hot," he said, stepping closer. "Do you have a gun? Oh, God, please tell me you've got handcuffs."

She bit back a smile. "I'm not answering that."

"That means yes." He surveyed her room with new interest, tongue poking into his cheek. "Now my fantasy life gains a whole new dimension."

She snorted. "Moron."

"Why is your apartment larger than mine?" he complained, pacing the room. He peeked into the bathroom. "Oi, you've got a tub!"

"Don't you?"

"Just a shower at my place."

He looked so bummed that she laughed. "Awww, you miss being able to take long bubble baths, don't you?"

He leaned against the doorjamb and smirked at her. "Ah, now _your_ fantasy life gains a whole new dimension."

She shook her head and moved back into the living room. "Jones, my fantasies are none of your business."

"Fair enough," he said, following her again, wandering over to look at her small aquarium and the only two fish who managed to last longer than a couple weeks. "So, Swan, what are we doing tonight?"

"I don't know what you're doing, but I'm getting a pizza and watching 'The Breakfast Club' on Netflix."

"What a coincidence," he said cheerfully. "I too love pizza and '80s movies!"

She sighed, deciding there was no point in trying to get rid of him. And he wasn't exactly _terrible_ company. "Hey, Jones, would you like to stay and watch a movie with me?"

He grinned. "I'll bring the beer, you order the pizza."

* * *

"The Breakfast Club" and pizza led to "Lethal Weapon" and Chinese two nights later. Killian had insisted that they watch it once he found out her fish were named Riggs and Murtaugh.

It was actually fun, despite the constant underlying attraction that she'd decided to ignore. Even Killian managed to cut it back to one or two silly innuendoes throughout the evening.

They sat on the floor in front of her sofa, eating off of her coffee table and half-watching the movie.

"So, Jones, what do you do?" She waved her chopsticks at him. "Your hours are almost as weird as mine."

"Is this a sign of interest, finally?" He held a hand to his chest in dramatic faux shock.

"It's just a polite question. Never mind."

He laughed. "My brother Liam and I own a business. We have a couple boats, and we hire out for sightseeing and fishing. It's really our slow time of the year, but things are starting to pick up as the weather gets better. I can take you out sometime if you'd like."

"Yeah, maybe." She'd never admit it to him, but she knew she would love it. Whenever she needed to think or if life got too much, she'd always find herself down at the waterfront. Just being near the water soothed her in a way nothing else could.

"Swan, when you see me in my natural habitat, you won't be able to resist me," he said confidently.

She rolled her eyes at him and turned her attention back to Mel Gibson.

She was afraid he just might be right.

* * *

She heard music through his door and was almost afraid to knock. What if he had a woman in there?

Annoyed at herself, she shifted her laundry basket onto one arm and pounded on the door. So what if he had a woman in there? It was nothing to do with her.

The music stopped, and Killian threw the door open. "Swan! What a lovely surprise."

It took her a moment to respond, since she was currently trying to recover from swallowing her own tongue. He stood there in nothing but a pair of plaid boxer shorts, and she squeezed her free hand into a painfully tight fist to prevent herself from reaching out and touching him.

"Um … look, I'm sorry to interrupt whatever's going on, but did I leave my green jacket here the other night?"

"Nothing's going on; come on in."

"Oh, I just assumed … I heard music, and you're not dressed. It's like 2 degrees outside; there is snow on the ground. Put on some clothes." She walked into the apartment, wincing at the fact that she couldn't seem to stop talking.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Does that bother you, Swan?"

She stopped short, ignoring the question and staring ahead of her at the guitar that was leaning against the couch. She hadn't seen it anywhere when they'd watched a movie over here two nights ago.

Not that she was snooping around his place or anything.

"Is that a guitar? You were playing just now? You can play the guitar, too?" The guy was annoyingly attractive, had a sexy accent and was musical? Life was just really, really not fair.

"Yes, yes and yes," he said.

"I want to hear you." She dropped her laundry basket and planted herself in his comfy recliner. She waved at him imperiously. "Play something."

He shuffled his feet and scratched behind his ear. She wanted to throw something at him for being so adorable on top of everything else.

Not. Fair.

"I don't know … I've not much experience playing in front of people."

"I'm not people, I'm just your weird neighbor."

He bit his lip and picked up the guitar, sitting on the edge of the couch. Taking a deep breath, he began to play, and it sounded familiar. Before she could work it out, he started to sing, "Won't you come see about me? I'll be alone, dancing, you know it baby."

She let out a slow breath, watching him sing a slower, dreamier version of the Simple Minds song, long fingers dancing along the strings as he played. She clapped and whistled enthusiastically when he was done, enjoying the fact that she made him blush.

"That was great, Jones!"

He cleared his throat. "Thanks … um, feel free to throw money … or your panties."

"I totally would, if I were wearing any."

They both froze.

_He is off-limits, idiot, don't flirt with him!_

"Um, I mean …" Shit, he was looking at her like he could see right through her sweats to where she was, in fact, bare. She stood and pointed at her laundry basket. "I'm overdue to do laundry, and I ran out of clean clothes. And now I'm going to go. And do laundry. So I can have clean clothes. And … bye!"

She scooped up the basket and made a run for the door before she could say anything else stupid.

_Yeah, that wasn't awkward at all._

"Wait!" She stopped and forced a smile before turning. He was holding up her favorite green fleece jacket. "You were looking for this?"

"Great, thanks." She snatched the jacket away from him and bolted out the door.

* * *

**APRIL**

She was wiggling her way into the tight pink dress when she heard the pounding on her door. "Swan, open up! You won't believe what I found!" Killian yelled.

"Ruby, can you get that?" she called.

She heard low voices through her bedroom door as she tugged the dress into place and dug out a pair of heels.

"Ems, there's a hottie out here who says he's your neighbor?" Ruby's voice echoed through the apartment, and Emma rolled her eyes.

She yanked the bedroom door open and stepped outside, holding on to the doorframe while she slipped her shoes on. "Yeah, he's okay. Ruby, Killian. Killian, Ruby."

Killian came bounding into the apartment, stopping short when he saw her. She was not the blushing type, despite recent occurrences, but the way he scanned her from head to toe and back again definitely made her feel flushed.

"Swan, you look amazing. You … you've got a date?"

"Oh yeah," she said, biting back a grin. "Hot date with a dirtbag embezzler who's trolling for women online while leaving his wife holding the bag for his bail."

"Ah, you're working, then," he said. "Poor guy won't know what hit him."

"That's the plan, anyway. So … what did you find?" At his blank look, she continued. "You said I won't believe what you found."

"Oh!" He held up a DVD case. "I found this for 5 bucks at the grocery store this afternoon."

She took it from him. "Wow, 'Better Off Dead'! I love that movie! 'I want my two dollars!'" she quoted.

He shrugged. "I thought we could continue our '80s movie theme. Maybe when you get home?"

She glanced at Ruby, who was watching this whole thing with an annoying level of interest. She looked like she was about ready to settle in with some popcorn. "I might be kind of late."

"That's all right, love," he said. "I'll be awake."

"Emma, I really hate to interrupt, but you're going to be late," Ruby said.

"Dammit!" Emma grabbed her coat and snatched her purse and keys from the table, heading for the door. "Ruby, just … you can borrow whatever you want, though I vote for the red dress. Just lock up when you leave, okay?"

She really, really hated to leave Ruby and Killian alone, and she wasn't sure why. Ruby loved men, but she was getting pretty serious with the doctor she was dating. And why did it matter, anyway? It's not like she had any claim on Killian. Or any interest in one.

None at all.

* * *

"You would not believe the complete hunk of a man Emma has living next door."

"Ruby." Emma shot a glare at her friend as they power-walked through the park.

Mary Margaret perked up. "Oh? Do tell."

"Tall, dark and handsome. Killer bod. Perfect amount of scruff. Stunning blue eyes. Sexy accent. Owns his own business. Plays the guitar. Completely and obviously crazy about Emma."

Emma sighed. "Can we not?"

"So, you don't find him attractive?"

"Ruby, I'm a healthy, straight female, of course I find him attractive. That's not the point."

"He brought over a John Cusack movie while I was there the other night."

"Cusack, huh? Sounds serious," Mary Margaret exchanged a grin with Ruby.

"We're just …" Emma shrugged. "We're kind of friends."

"Baby doll, he almost swallowed his tongue when he saw you in that dress. Friends don't look at friends that way."

"Come on. You guys know my —"

"Rules," the other two chorused.

"Okay, I know you think it's stupid, but we all know, I'm shit at relationships."

"No," Ruby said. "Neal Cassidy is an asshole. You need to stop acting like that was your fault."

"Let's not have this conversation again."

"Okay," Mary Margaret said. "Let's talk about Friday night."

"Yes, let's," Ruby said. "Victor is going to be so surprised! And so is Emma."

"Meaning?" She had a very bad feeling about this.

"I invited your sexy neighbor to Victor's birthday party."

* * *

The Rabbit Hole was crowded and loud. Even still, the chorus of "Happy Birthday" sung by their group managed to drown out all the other noise for a few moments, causing other patrons of the bar to sing along.

Emma and Killian laughed and raised their bottles along with everyone else in the group, toasting Ruby's boyfriend.

Emma took a drink and leaned her elbows on the table, smiling when Killian mirrored her.

"Is it weird that I'm here?" he asked.

Weird, no. A bit disturbing in that he looked so great in his dark jeans, tight gray T-shirt and black waistcoat that she wanted to forget all about her stupid rule and climb right into his lap.

"I don't know, do _you_ think it's weird?"

"Swan —"

"Emma!" Mary Margaret came over to the table holding a large box.

"Hey, M." She rolled her eyes at the way her friend's eyes darted to Killian before turning back to her with a Significant Look. Before she could say a word, David appeared beside her.

"Um, guys, this is my friend Killian Jones. Killian, this is my brother, David Nolan and sister-in-law, Mary Margaret."

Mary Margaret beamed and dropped the box on the table to shake his hand. David raised his eyebrows at her in question, but she just shrugged, so he shook Killian's hand, too.

"What's in the box?" Emma asked.

"Cupcakes, for Victor's birthday!" Mary Margaret flipped up the box's lid. "Killian, do you want chocolate or yellow cake?"

"It's only chocolate for me," he said, accepting the cupcake. "Thank you; this looks fantastic."

"You're welcome," her friend said, handing one to Emma without even asking. "Chocolate is Emma's favorite, too."

Emma rolled her eyes again. Mary Margaret was about as subtle as an explosion.

_Wow, we both like chocolate — set the wedding date now._

"Yeah, me and several billion other people, M."

They smirked at each other as Mary Margaret moved on to some of the other party guests. Emma absently dipped a finger in the frosting and brought it to her mouth.

"Mmmm, that's amazing," she said. "Mary Margaret sure knows her —"

She froze as she saw Killian's eyes zero in on her finger in her mouth, and swallowed hard as she watched him lick his lips. God, his mouth just did things to her, and she really wanted it to _do things_ to her, which was kind of a problem.

_Danger Will Robinson! Emma, you have to get the hell away from him!_

She dropped her hand to the table and took a deep breath, scanning the bar for a way out.

"You know," she said. "It's really not weird that you're here, but you don't have to stick around if you don't want to. I mean, it's Friday night. I wouldn't blame you if you were looking for some … company."

"Company." He repeated flatly.

"Sure. You like redheads, right? There's a pretty one over at the bar alone right now. I think I've seen her in here before."

"Swan, are you seriously trying to hook me up with another woman?"

She huffed out a frustrated breath. The last thing she wanted was to see Killian with another woman, and that was part of her problem. "Look, do whatever you want, I was just trying to … I don't know, be a friend."

"If you want me to leave, love, all you have to do is say so."

"I wasn't —" She growled as he pushed away from the table, grabbing his beer and cupcake before stalking over to the redhead.

Which was totally fine.

She'd all but pushed him over there, hadn't she? It was fine. It was good. Not a problem at all.

She took a vicious bite of her cupcake before looking around the bar again. She wondered if anyone would care if she took off; suddenly the idea of watching Jones pick up another woman was turning her stomach. She frowned as she noticed her friend Robin over at one of the pool tables. His body language was screaming "leave me the hell alone," so naturally, she went over. Better to pick a fight with a friend than watch her neighbor hitting on another woman.

"Rob, you look like you're about to shove that pool cue up someone's ass," she said, finishing the rest of her cupcake in one enormous bite.

"And yet, you still came over to pester me." He frowned and aimed for the 7 ball, hitting the cue ball so hard that the 7 jumped off the table.

"You say 'pester'; I prefer 'delight,'" she said, smirking. She retrieved the ball and placed it back in place on the table. "Ease up, hotshot. Don't want to break your balls."

"Yeah, you're a real delight," he said, but she was pleased to see him fighting back a smile.

"So what's up? Girl trouble?"

He lined up his shot again, sighing. "I'm sick of this bullshit. I love her, you know. I love her, and she's just using me."

Robin had been hooking up with Mary Margaret's cousin for almost a year now, but she would never agree to make it official, even dating other men sometimes. As much as Emma disliked the woman, even she could admit that Regina was somewhat less of a bitch when she was with Robin.

And something about the way Regina held him at arm's length reminded Emma of herself. She had her rule and refused to get involved at all, while Regina got involved but refused to admit it was serious.

"Look, you know I'm not Regina's biggest fan," she said. "And heaven knows I'm no expert at relationships, but I do know what it's like to … to be hurt. And to be afraid of being hurt again. You know she lost her first love. Isn't it possible that she's just trying to protect herself?"

He took another shot. "What should I do?"

"Go talk to her," Emma said. "Tell her how you feel. Best case, she feels the same, you can work something out. Worst case, at least you'll know."

He stood, pool cue in hand, watching her. "Well, aren't you a regular Dr. Phil?"

"Hey, I have years of experience in watching other people's crappy relationships while avoiding them myself," she said with a laugh.

"It's good advice, though," he said, putting his cue away and throwing an arm around her shoulders. "I'm going over there now. Thanks."

"Good luck," she told him. She watched him leave, then turned slightly, unable to stop her eyes from seeking out Killian and the redhead. They were both gone already, and she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. She'd like to blame it on a bad cupcake, but she knew that wasn't it.

"Strike out, Swan?"

She jumped at Killian's voice in her ear. It was annoying how she suddenly felt lighter, and she tried to stomp out that feeling immediately.

"I didn't strike out," she said, not sure why she felt compelled to explain herself. "I wasn't even trying to … score. That was just David's best friend from high school. I was trying to help him with his girlfriend."

"Matchmaking now?" He leaned closer. "Me, too. Ariel, the redhead, has been wanting to talk to that guy over there for weeks."

She followed his gaze to where the woman was seated next to a brown-haired man, leaning close to talk.

"You got them together?"

He stared deep in her eyes. "I merely suggested that if she didn't try for what she wanted, she'd always regret it."

"Good advice."

"And what do _you_ want, love?"

"I want …" She had to look away, and her eyes lit on the pool table behind them. She forced a light tone into her voice. "I want to destroy you at billiards."

She thought for a moment that he wasn't going to answer, and she held her breath. After a sigh, though, he started racking the pool balls. "It's you who should prepare for destruction, lass."

"I'll let you beat me if you want that favor I owe you," she said in a singsong voice.

He grinned. "Nice try, but I'm not wasting my favor when I can beat you all on my own."

She slowly let out her breath and grabbed a cue.

Crisis averted.

* * *

"Jones, you bastard!" Emma's outrage gave her the strength to bound up the last few steps to where he was leaned in his doorway and aim a kick at his leg. "It's completely your fault that I —"

She broke off with a horrified gasp as the guy — who she now saw was _clearly_ not Killian — turned around.

"Oh my God, oh my God, I'm sorry!" she said. "I thought you were Jones!"

He laughed. "Well, I am," he said. "Liam Jones, at your service."

"Oh, the brother." She could definitely see the resemblance, though Liam was taller and his hair was curlier than his younger brother's and not as dark.

"And you must be the neighbor."

"Emma Swan," she said, and dammit, she knew she was blushing. "I'm really sorry. It's just that your idiot brother made me watch 'The Shining' last night even though I told him I don't like scary movies. I didn't sleep at all!"

"Well, Swan, you should've called me." Killian poked his head around the door. "You could've come to bed with me … for safety's sake."

"Oh, stow it, Romeo." She (very maturely) stuck her tongue out at him. "You don't get to pick any more movies. Liam, it was nice meeting you. I'm sorry for kicking you; feel free to pass it on to your brother. Now I'm going to go die of embarrassment."

"We're heading to the movies ourselves," Liam said. "You should join us."

"Oh, I couldn't. I don't want to interrupt your bro time."

"Come on, Swan, it'll be fun. Liam and I see each other all day, every day. You'd be much more pleasant company."

She bit her lip. She'd had a crappy day, and a nice escape from reality with two hot guys sounded like a nice distraction. "It's not a horror movie, is it?"

"We were thinking something with explosions," the elder Jones said.

"Sounds perfect. Do I have a minute to change?" She pointed at her jeans, which had a very large and not at all stylish rip in the knee.

"What happened? Are you all right?"

"Eh, I'm fine. I just had to tackle a guy who made a run for it."

The brothers exchanged a glance.

"Darling, that is the hottest thing I've ever heard," Killian said. "I think you're going to have to marry me."

She rolled her eyes hard enough to give herself a concussion. "Down, boy. Give me five minutes."

She was back out in the hall in less than three minutes, and they made it to the movie in plenty of time. It was a nice, brainless action flick, and she happily joined the brothers for dinner afterward.

They stopped at a place called Granny's Diner. It was just down the street from their apartment building, and she'd always wanted to check it out but hadn't ever gotten around to it.

While they were waiting for their food, Killian took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her bruised knuckles. "Did you have to fight your prisoner, too?"

She shrugged. "I didn't really have to punch him, but the jerk made me run and called me 'a fucking bitch-whore'. And he made me ruin my favorite pair of jeans. So I broke his nose."

Before she could stop him, Killian brought her hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss over it.

"I didn't know you two were dating," Liam said.

"We're not," Emma said, glaring at Killian and snatching her hand away.

"We're friends," Killian said at the same time.

After a slightly awkward silence, Killian spoke again. "My brother's getting married in June. His fiancee, Abigail, is almost as bad-ass as you are."

Liam grinned. "She kicks metaphorical ass," he said. "She's a prosecutor."

"Cool," Emma said, glad to change the subject. "I know it's getting late in wedding-planning terms, but if you still need a cake, you should check out my sister-in-law's shop. She's the best, and I'm not just saying that because she's family."

"Liam, seriously, this woman makes the best cake," Killian said. "Her chocolate cupcakes were divine."

"Right?" Emma dug a business card out of her purse. "Her name is Mary Margaret Nolan at Fairytale Cakes. Give this to Abigail just in case."

"Emma, I'm sorry if this is out of line," Killian said. "But I've been wondering … how are you a Swan and your brother is a Nolan?"

She paused as the waitress brought their orders and made sure they had everything they needed. She didn't normally tell people about her past, but she found she didn't really mind talking about it.

Once they started eating, she kept her eyes on her plate as she answered. "David's not my biological brother. We were friends in school. I was in foster care, and when I was 14 I was stuck with a really lousy family, so I spent all my time at Ruby's or David's. Eventually, Ruth — David's mom — just decided I was better off there. I don't really know how she did it, but she became a foster parent just so she could take me in."

"We were orphans, too," Liam said quietly.

She sat up straighter and looked at Killian, who nodded. "Our mother died when I was 10 and Liam 15. We eventually came to the U.S. to live with her sister."

She smiled and held his eyes for a moment before looking away. "So, Liam, you must have a few embarrassing stories about Killian, right?"

He laughed. "Oh, lass, how long do you have?"

* * *

Emma slipped the borrowed key into the lock and entered as quietly as she could, in case he was sleeping.

"Swan, that you?"

No such luck.

"It's me," she said, walking into his living room, biting back a laugh at the sight of Killian, bundled up in blankets on the couch like a human burrito.

He sneezed hard, and she immediately felt bad for laughing at him.

"Okay," she said briskly, pulling items out of her bag. "I got the Sudafed, Nyquil, some more tissues, cough drops just in case. And some chicken noodle soup from Granny's, as requested."

She went to snag a spoon out of the kitchen and refill his water glass, pulling a TV tray over to the couch and setting the soup out for him.

"Thanks for doing this, Swan," he said, motioning for her to sit next to him. "I guess this is my favor."

"Nah," she said. "This is just … being neighborly."

He sneezed again. "Bloody hell. I hate being sick."

She turned on his TV and flipped through channels while he ate, finally stopping on Maverick and Goose serenading Charlie in "Top Gun."

As soon as he finished his soup, she moved to put everything away, helping him get settled on the couch again. She turned down the volume on the TV but left it on, watching as his eyes got heavier. "We should watch this another time," he mumbled, drifting off.

She totally did _not_ spend 15 minutes just watching him sleep, and if she did, she didn't think at all about how adorable he was while he did it.


	2. Chapter 2

**MAY**

They took to texting each other several times a day. She'd give commentary on her latest job, and he'd share bits about some crazy tourists on his boat. They both threw out ideas for what to watch next in their unofficial '80s movie marathon and debated what to get for dinner.

He was the one who started it, sending her stupid jokes and lame pick-up lines, and he almost always was the one who texted her first.

So it was kind of weird the day that he didn't text her at all. It wasn't a big deal (she wasn't _worried_ or anything) but it was just a little strange.

Finally, around 2, she couldn't stand it anymore, and sent him a text.

_u r quiet today. everything ok?_

_**Just a shit day. Hope yours is better.** _

She wasn't sure what possessed her, but she found herself texting back.

_karate kid tonight? I'll make lasagna?_

She half-expected some kind of pervy response, but instead he just sent back a smiley face and the immortal words of Mr. Miyagi: _**Wax on, wax off**_.

* * *

He was quiet, unusual for him, but she didn't push.

She'd been there before, and sometimes talking was the last thing she wanted to do when she was upset.

They ate and watched the movie mostly in silence, but he seemed to be in a better mood after it finished. She was aimlessly channel surfing when he spoke again.

"I saw someone today. From years ago. I … when I was younger, I got involved with her. I shouldn't have touched her in the first place. She was married, and I thought it would be a great, no-strings relationship. But I fell for her, and she said she loved me as well. But she wouldn't leave her husband."

"And you saw her … at work?"

"Aye. I actually hadn't thought about her for a long time, but she came for a sightseeing tour on my boat, with her bloody husband. She flirted with me, slipped me a note with her cell number on it. As though I would make that mistake again."

"I'm sorry," she said. Biting her lip, she continued. "That first day we met, I drank so much the night before because I saw my ex-boyfriend at Mary Margaret's shop, wanting to pick out a wedding cake with his fiancee. He told me he just wasn't made for commitment, but I guess it was just _me_ he wasn't made for."

He leaned back against the arm of the sofa and smiled at her, lifting his beer in a toast. "We're better off without them, eh Swan?"

"I'll drink to that."

* * *

"You cooked for him?"

"Ruby."

The two of them were hanging out behind the counter in Fairytale Cakes while Mary Margaret worked on scheduling her orders.

"No seriously," Mary Margaret said. "You made him dinner?"

"He had a bad day."

"You are so dating him," Ruby said.

"We're not dating. We're just friends."

"Oh, _okay_. You've never made me lasagna, and we've been friends for years," Ruby said.

"No, but when you run into some jerkwad ex-boyfriend, I know to feed you chocolate and alcohol. I didn't know what would make him feel better. David loves my lasagna, so …"

"He saw his ex?" Mary Margaret looked up from her schedule with interest.

"Yup. Some married woman; she showed up on his boat with her husband and tried to get back with him."

"Bitch!" Ruby said. "Of course he said no because of you."

"Or, alternately, he said no because she broke his heart and he doesn't want to go through that again."

"Well yeah, but also because he's dating you."

"We are _not_ — ugh, never mind."

"Just answer me one question, and I'll drop this subject," Ruby said. "When's the last time you got laid?"

She shrugged. "I've been busy," she said defensively.

"That's not really an answer," Mary Margaret pointed out.

"I don't know," she said. Of course she knew; it was the day before she met Jones.

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure it was the day you saw Dickhead Cassidy right here in the shop," Ruby said. "And wasn't it the very next day you met a certain hunk across the hall?"

"Just … I've been working a lot, okay? That's the last thing on my mind," she lied.

Of course it was on her mind a lot. The problem was, she couldn't seem to work up any interest in men who weren't her next-door neighbor.

She frowned when she saw Ruby, not making any effort to hide it, silently mouth _"dating"_ at Mary Margaret.

Dammit.

* * *

She'd been out of town for three days, looking for some tool who jumped bail on a B&E charge. She was nearly certain that he was dumb enough to go to his sister — his only surviving relative — for help. So for the third night in a row she was staking out the woman's house in hopes of catching him.

She finished up her turkey sub and shifted in the seat, thinking fondly of her bed. If this moron would hurry up and make a mistake, she could be sleeping in it in mere hours.

Her phone beeped, and she looked down to see another text from Killian.

_**Riggs and Murtaugh are fed.** _

_thanks._

_hey, stay out of my stuff while ur there. no looking in my underwear drawer._

_**Which one was that again?** _

_**Kidding. I'm too busy to go through your knickers right now.** _

She wondered what the hell he was doing, but that question was answered a moment later when he texted her a photo.

A photo of himself, wearing nothing but a grin, taking a bubble bath in her bathtub.

Killian Jones was naked. Right now. Naked and wet. In her apartment. In her tub. And damn if he didn't look delicious.

"Fuck my life," she moaned, thankful she was alone. If she underwent spontaneous human combustion due to unresolved sexual tension, nobody would ever know.

* * *

She had wanted this for so long. Had wanted him.

They were a tight fit in her bathtub, but that made it even better; she was nestled in between Killian's legs, and every inch of their skin was touching. The hair on his legs dragged wonderfully against the outside of her thighs, and she tilted her head as he kissed her neck, teeth grazing her skin. He cupped her breast with one hand while the other slid under the water, over her stomach and between her thighs. She moaned as his callused fingers circled her heated flesh and dipped lower, slipping between her folds and teasing her —

_Fuck_. Emma groaned as her cellphone rang, and she sat up in the tub and reached for the phone. Naturally, _naturally_ it was Jones.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Swan, what're you doing?"

_Oh, nothing major, just trying to get myself off while fantasizing about you._

"Um, just taking a bath."

There was a pause.

"I'll be right over."

She laughed. "Jones, forget it. You already gave me back my key, remember?"

"Damn it! Foiled again. It's for emergencies such as this that we ought to exchange keys permanently, Swan."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Well, once you're finished, why don't you come over? I'll make some burgers, and we can watch a movie. Your choices are: 'Real Genius' or 'The Goonies.'"

"Ugh, I can't pick," she said.

"Let's go crazy and watch both."

"You read my mind," she told him, truly thankful that he didn't actually possess that power.

* * *

"So, I'm thinking we should go out tonight, for once," Killian said.

Emma shook her nail polish bottle and propped her foot on the coffee table. "I'm already going out tonight. Ruby and I are going to The Rabbit Hole again. You're welcome to come with us, but it might give you flashbacks to your humiliating billiards defeat."

"Ha. I let you win."

"Just keep telling yourself that, Jones."

"Here," he said, suddenly grabbing her ankle and putting her foot in his lap. He took the nail polish from her and motioned for her to get settled back against the arm of the couch.

She did as he asked, hoping he didn't notice her shiver as his thumb stroked the arch of her foot. She was not a tiny woman, but her foot felt petite cradled in his big hands. His fingers felt just as callused as she'd imagined — and she'd spent an embarrassing amount of time lately doing just that.

"You have a lot of pedicure experience?" she managed.

"None whatsoever, but I've a creative soul," he said, grinning. He focused on painting her nails, then bit his lip before continuing. "Look, Swan, I need to talk to you about something."

That could not be good. She tensed, ready to pull her foot back in case he said something she didn't like.

"I figured out what I want my favor to be," he said, not looking up.

"Wow! Alert the media," she joked. "Three months later, he finally decides! Give me a moment to prepare myself, in case it's my firstborn child. It's _not_ my firstborn, is it?"

He chuckled. "No, but that was second on my list. I, ah … you know Liam is getting married next month, right? I'm the best man, and I need a date."

He raised his eyes to hers, and her breath caught in her throat for a moment. "Um, are you sure? I mean, one of the perks of being the best man is that you're almost certain to get lucky. All those single, lonely women who are depressed that yet another one of their friends or family members is getting hitched while they can't even get a date? I'm sure you could have your pick."

He shrugged. "I don't care about that. I just … I want to be there with someone I can have fun with, Swan. You're my friend, and we always have fun."

_You're his friend. Just his friend._

Exactly what she wanted. Right?

"Besides," he continued with a small smile. "If anyone gets out of line at the reception, you can kick their ass for us."

She laughed. "How could I say no to that?" She playfully nudged his leg with her heel. "Hey, finish those up! They need to dry before I get ready."

"As you wish, milady."

* * *

"So?" Killian raised his eyebrows and grinned. "So?"

Emma sighed, unable to stop her smile, and leaned back in the booth. "It was fine. Okay, okay, it was pretty amazing."

"I knew it; I knew you'd love it," he said. "There's just something about being out on the water."

She'd finally accepted his offer to take her out on one of their boats. They used the smaller craft that the brothers booked for private groups of tourists and fishermen. They'd spent a whole afternoon out on the water, eating a light lunch before coming back. She'd offered to buy him dessert at Granny's Diner on the way home.

He ordered pie, and she picked out a sundae.

"I thought you wanted something warm, and you're ordering ice cream?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. The day had been warm enough, but between the clouds and wind she'd gotten chilly on the way home.

"Um, yeah. With _hot_ fudge," she said. "So, thanks for today. You looked like you were in your element, Captain."

"I guess." He nodded at the waitress who brought their desserts. "I just …"

She took a bite and moaned at the taste, freezing when she saw him watching her, tongue teasing the side of his mouth. "Sorry. So, you just …"

"I love the water. I love sailing and being out on the boat, but the business is a huge responsibility and it's a lot of work, especially during our busy season. Liam … he didn't have to make me a partner in it, and I'm grateful that he did. But there's a part of me that wishes I'd had the chance to decide for myself what to do. I might have gone another direction."

"Like … music?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps. I'd have liked to continue my education, at least. But it doesn't really matter anyway."

"Of course it matters. You should tell him how you feel. It's not too late to go back to school, if that's what you really want."

Killian shook his head. "He can't run the business without me; it's too much work for one person. And I owe him too much to abandon him for some pipe dream."

She thought about arguing but let it go. It wasn't her business what he did, anyway.

They finished up their desserts with a rousing debate about what movie to watch next — "Heathers" was looking like a winner — and began the walk back to their building. She started to thank him again for the day when the sky opened up with no warning and poured rain.

They stopped dead, staring at each other in shock as they were almost instantly soaked. They ran for their building, screaming and laughing like loons. As soon as they stepped inside, she started wringing her hair out, wincing as Killian shook like a dog and sprayed water everywhere, including on her.

"Hey," she laughed, shoving him and running for the stairs, Jones close on her heels.

They were both laughing and breathing hard by the time they made it to their floor, and Emma was stomping her feet. "Ugh, even my socks are wet. I hate it when —"

Looking up, she broke off — stopped moving, stopped breathing, even — when their eyes met. He was so close and warm and wet and beautiful. She didn't even realize she was moving until she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his mouth to hers.

Her lips were a spark, gliding across his, setting them both aflame. It was only a breath before he responded, his tongue sliding against hers as they opened to one another, tilting their heads to deepen the kiss.

He pressed her back into his door as she moaned, carding the fingers of one hand into his wet hair; she felt him fumbling at the lock a moment before he got the door open and they stumbled inside.

Killian kicked the door shut behind them and grabbed her ass, hoisting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She dropped her lips to his neck as he carried her across the room, settling them both on the couch and pulling her mouth back up to his for a long, deep kiss. She tightened her legs around him, tugging his hips closer, until she could feel his hard heat right where she was aching for him.

Emma gasped at the sensations as his hips circled against her, and he kissed his way down to the spot where her neck and shoulder met and sucked hard. One hand slipped under her shirt, cupping her breast over her bra.

"Oh, Emma," he sighed, brushing his lips over hers again and forcing her eyes to his.

She didn't expect and couldn't stop the wave of panic that crashed over her.

She was making out with Killian. Her neighbor. Her friend.

This was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Wait, Killian, stop," she said quickly, pushing him away.

"What?"

She squirmed out from under him and jumped off the couch, straightening her clothes. "We can't do this."

He groaned and fell back on the couch, and she looked away from the obvious sign of his arousal. God, she just knew they would be amazing together, but what then?

_It would implode, like every relationship ever, and then we wouldn't even be friends anymore._

"Is this because of your bloody stupid rule?" He rolled to his feet.

"It's not stupid," she said, moving toward the door. "I don't do relationships." She winced when he caught her arm.

"Swan, come on. Your rule doesn't even apply, since we've essentially been dating for three months." He stepped closer, lips nearly brushing hers. "Nothing has to change! The only thing that will be different is that I won't have to come home and jerk off thinking of you. And you won't have to do that, either."

She felt herself flush, not from embarrassment (though heaven knew he was right about that) but from a wave of heat as she instantly pictured him stroking himself, fantasizing about her, moaning her name. She shook her head, almost overwhelmed by the intense need to give in and just wrap herself all around him.

Instead, she took a deep breath and stepped back. "I'm not doing this."

"Emma, I'm falling for you."

_Oh, God._

"No." She shook her head, backing toward the door, wrenching it open. "No you aren't."

He barked out a bitter laugh. "Please don't try to tell me what I feel, Swan. I knew it the day we met; I haven't even looked at another woman since."

She scoffed. "Bullshit! You've hidden out in my apartment from your one-nighters a bunch of times!"

"I made them up! I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you!" he shouted. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "I know you've been hurt; so have I. The difference is, I'm not so fucking paralyzed by fear that I'm incapable of moving forward with a relationship like an adult."

She frowned as his barb hit right on target. "No, all your fear is centered on the _rest_ of your life, so you just let your brother run it for you! Very grown-up of you, Jones. And for the record, what I do or don't do in my personal life is none of your damn business!"

She stormed across the hall, jamming her key in the lock and twisting her door open. She heard his door slam behind her before she got inside and slammed hers, too, leaning back against it and swallowing a sob.

_Damn it. Damn him._

She wished she'd never met Killian Jones.

* * *

**JUNE**

She was stretched out on her couch in her pajamas, eating mint chocolate chip ice cream out of the carton and watching "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." It was normally one of her favorites, but she couldn't muster so much as a smile over the crazy teen antics this time.

She was a pathetic cliche. Next thing you knew, she'd be watching "The Notebook" and fucking crying into her ice cream.

What she needed was sex. Some rough, sweaty, mind-clearing sex with a random stranger. But that would require getting off the couch, putting on some clothes and pretending she gave a damn about anything.

And she just. Did. Not.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, and she knew it was either Ruby or Mary Margaret. Since she wasn't speaking to either one at the moment, she didn't bother to pick up.

Both of them seemed to think she'd made a huge mistake breaking up with Killian — the fact that they _weren't even dating_ didn't seem to matter — and were not at all hesitant about telling her so.

She wondered if Killian was okay. She hadn't seen him at all in the three weeks since their fight. The first week, she'd gratefully taken a job that sent her to Vegas, and she had deliberately avoided him since she got back. Not that it was hard, since he hadn't tried to see her, either. Or call. Or text.

Not that she wanted to hear from him. So it was totally fine.

_I wonder if Netflix has 'The Notebook'?_

Ferris was just twisting and shouting on the parade float when she heard the key in her door.

Only a couple other people had a key to her place, so it was no surprise when Ruby came barging in, Mary Margaret at her heels.

"Really?" Emma said. "I can't even have some privacy in my own apartment?"

"Oh, whatever," Ruby said. "You're such a drama queen. You've had privacy. For weeks now. Consider this an intervention. It's time to put on your big girl panties and get off the couch."

Emma took a giant bite, wincing at the instant cold-induced headache. "Not going anywhere," she mumbled around the ice cream.

"Ruby's right," her sister-in-law said, nodding as Ruby disappeared into Emma's bedroom. She grabbed the ice cream carton and put the lid on. "You are going to shower. Then, we're going out for pedicures. You need one; your toes look terrible."

Emma looked down and wiggled her toes. The pink hue — Strawberry Margarita — that Killian had painted on weeks ago was looking pretty bad. She watched Mary Margaret stow her ice cream in the freezer and tried to push away the memory of Killian frowning in concentration as he delicately painted the nails.

"Then we're going to lunch," Ruby chimed in, bringing a small stack of clothes out of the bedroom. "Something with no nutritional value and a shitload of calories."

"And then the lecture?" Emma slumped back on the couch, scowling.

They gave her twin innocent smiles.

* * *

"Okay," Emma said a few hours later. "I'm squeaky clean, my toenails are pretty again, we've stuffed ourselves with pizza and talked about as much pointless celebrity gossip as I can take. Hit me."

Her friends exchanged a glance.

"Let's be honest," Mary Margaret started. "You keep saying that Killian wasn't your boyfriend. But the sad, wretched vision we found on your couch this morning tells another story."

" _Wretched_? Really?" she argued, even though she knew it was true. Fortunately, they didn't know the half of it. If they'd seen her huddled on the couch crying at the end of "Top Gun" — _"Top Gun," for pete's sake_ — a couple nights before, they might have had her committed.

"You looked just like me the many, many times I've had my heart broken," Ruby argued. "Look, I'm sure witnessing my disastrous attempts at relationships hasn't exactly been encouraging, but you know what? I still believe in love! And I think I might have found it for real this time. Yeah, I've kissed a lot of frogs, but not all of us are able to find our Prince Charming the first time out like this lucky bitch — no offense."

Mary Margaret laughed. "None taken. And you're right, I am lucky. But, Emma, you can be, too. Killian loves you, and obviously you care about him, too. I know it's scary to take a risk, but honey, the rewards are pretty great. You've gotta take a leap of faith. You deserve to be happy, and we hate to see you sabotaging yourself."

Emma sighed and took a sip of her diet Coke. "This morning, I was about two seconds away from watching a chick-flick and crying," she admitted. "I just … I don't know how I even got here. I don't _do_ relationships, and suddenly I'm in one. And then I'm not. I wanted to avoid getting hurt, and I did anyway. And I probably hurt him, too. And … and dammit, I miss him."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Ruby challenged.

She groaned and dropped her head to the table, not fast enough to miss the high-five her friends exchanged.

"You guys are the worst friends ever."

Fortunately, all three of them knew she meant just the opposite.

* * *

She stood outside Killian's door for a good five minutes, trying to work up the courage to knock.

_Don't be such a wuss_ , she lectured herself. _You can do this_.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked quietly, fighting the urge to run and hide in her apartment before he could answer the door. She waited a minute, not hearing a sound from inside, then knocked louder.

"Killian! Are you there?"

No answer.

She knocked again, with no response, before she turned and shuffled back into her apartment. Either he wasn't home or he didn't want anything to do with her.

She sighed and went into the kitchen, ready to pull out the ice cream again. Was it completely pathetic to get into her pajamas at 3 in the afternoon? She was grabbing a spoon when her eyes fell on her calendar … and the huge, red star Killian had drawn over the Saturday of Liam's wedding, so she wouldn't forget.

The Saturday that was today.

Tacked right underneath the calendar was her invitation to the wedding.

Sticking the ice cream back in the freezer, she sank against the counter and considered. She'd really screwed up with Killian; would he even want to see her, or would that ruin the wedding for him? Well, she was missing the wedding anyway; it had started a few minutes ago. If she hurried, she could make the end of the reception.

Or, she could wait for him to get home. If he came home. If he came home _alone_ , and not with some slutty, big-haired bridesmaid in tow.

The very thought of him bringing another woman home was enough to propel her into the bedroom.

And if she happened to slip into some of her sexiest underwear beneath the coral-colored crochet dress she'd picked for the wedding, that was her own business.

* * *

Emma Swan had had some very bad ideas in her day. Disastrous, even. The time she thought Neal Cassidy was The One, for instance. Or the day she bought a bargain-basement dye to color her hair red, and it somehow came out a very sickly purple instead. That was embarrassing.

But this — _this_ was the very worst idea she'd ever had.

Liam Jones' wedding reception was in a lovely ballroom at a nearby hotel. She stood on the periphery, scanning the room and wishing like hell that she had never come here. The guests all looked like they were having a great time, scarfing down food and sipping champagne, chatting around the tables and swaying to music in the middle of the room.

Including Killian and the slutty bridesmaid.

Okay, maybe she didn't really look slutty. Maybe she looked beautiful, with long, dark curls and a very friendly smile. And she could hardly blame the woman for dancing so close to him; what woman wouldn't, given the opportunity? He was certainly not trying to put any space between them, either.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

Emma took a deep breath and watched a moment longer. She was an idiot. An idiot who had watched too many damned romantic comedies, which had clearly rotted the decision-making portions of her brain.

She shook her head and turned to make a run for it, wincing and stepping back as she nearly ran into the groom.

"Emma!" Liam said warmly. "I'm so glad see you. Killian said you wouldn't come, but I'd hoped …"

"Congratulations, Liam," she said, forcing a smile. "I'm very happy for you, but I really need to —"

"He misses you."

"I don't … I'm sorry," she said. She shook her head again, blinking back tears. "I have to go."

She rushed out of the ballroom, mentally kicking herself. She knew Liam would probably mention this to Killian, but maybe with all the excitement of the wedding, he'd forget she was even there. And if not, at least Killian himself hadn't seen her. She wasn't sure what she would say —

"Swan!"

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

She kept walking, even though it was probably obvious that she'd heard him.

"Swan, wait!"

Finally she stopped, scowling at the busy hotel lobby before fixing a polite smile on her face and turning. If she didn't die of this humiliation, she was going to kill Ruby and Mary Margaret both.

"Jones."

He stood in front of her — looking unfairly attractive in the classic black tux — and uncharacteristically _not_ invading her space. He scanned her from head to toe but didn't comment, instead scratching the back of his head and sighing.

"What are you doing here?"

"I …" She literally couldn't think of one thing she had wanted to say. "We had a deal, right? I did owe you a favor."

He smiled tightly, with a decidedly bitter edge. "Right. The favor. Well, consider your obligation fulfilled," he said in a low tone, turning to go.

"Wait!" He stopped but didn't turn around. "Look, I wanted to apologize. I was a total bitch, and I'm sorry. You're right, I'm … I'm just afraid, and I ruined everything."

He faced her again, this time stepping close enough to touch. His eyes searched her face. "What are you saying, Emma?"

"I'm saying …" She swallowed hard and forced herself to continue. "I didn't even realize we were dating until we broke up. I don't … I don't want to break up. I miss your stupid face. And our movie nights and arguing whether to watch 'The Princess Bride' or 'Back to the Future' — and then watching both. And our rambling phone conversations and pointless back-and-forth texts … all of it."

A grin spread across his face. "I miss your stupid face, too, Swan. But … I want more than just your friendship. I meant it when I said I'm falling in love with you. I still mean it. I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for —"

She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck and going up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "If you weren't my neighbor, if I didn't have that stupid rule, I would've jumped you the first time I saw you."

His arms went around her waist, pulling her close. "I knew you couldn't resist me," he said, grinning wider. One of his hands lifted to her hair, twirling it around his fingers and tugging her gently toward him for a chaste kiss.

"So," she murmured against his mouth. "How long do you have to stay at this thing?"

"I've still got to give the best man toast," he said. "But perhaps I could hire one of these gentlemen to do it for me."

He nodded to a group of elderly men reading newspapers and arguing in the corner of the lobby, and she laughed again.

"We've waited four months, what's another hour or two?"

He brushed his lips over her jaw. "You'll stay, then?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Despite the anticipation of being alone with Killian, the next two hours flew by in a blur of music, laughter and stolen kisses. Killian gave a funny, heartfelt speech honoring his brother and new sister-in-law, and they drank champagne and danced to song after song, twining closer together all the time.

As soon as the crowd sent off the bride and groom, they made their escape, leaving the party behind and slipping into the first open cab they could find.

It was only a fifteen minute drive to their building, and Emma was glad about that, for fear they'd end up giving the cab driver quite the show. Holding hands quickly turned to smiling at each other, which became touching foreheads and bumping noses. It wasn't far from there to actual kissing — deep, wet, drugging kisses that had them both breathing heavily — which led to his hand inching up her thigh under her dress. Before that could turn into anything more interesting and possibly illegal, they arrived home.

Emma hopped out of the cab and straightened her dress while Killian paid the driver. They linked hands and went inside, taking the stairs relatively slowly and stealing glances at one another. She felt a wave of heat wash through her body at the thought of what was to come, and that heat rushed directly to her center when they made it to their floor and he pressed her up against the wall next to his door and kissed her, rolling his hips into hers.

She pushed him back a half-step and slipped her hand between them, rubbing his obvious arousal through his trousers, laughing when he fumbled and dropped his keys.

"Minx," he said, groaning when she knelt in front of him, staring at him from under her eyelashes, just at the perfect height for other activities. She grinned wickedly and scooped up the keys, standing slowly and pushing them back into his pocket.

"Relax, Jones, I'm not going to blow you out here in the hallway … right now," she teased, grin widening at the way his eyes darkened. She pulled out her own keys. "But let's go to my place."

She unlocked her door, feeling the heat of him behind her, and pushed it open. When they were inside, she pulled him in for another kiss, surprised when he resisted.

"Wait, Swan … Emma. We don't have to do this now, you know. We don't have to rush into anything."

"Well, you _are_ gentleman," she said, sliding her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. "But a real gentleman would keep his promise."

"Mmmm." He swayed toward her, toying with her hair and brushing his thumb over her jaw. "And which promise was that?"

"You said if we were dating I wouldn't have to … satisfy myself anymore," she reminded him, smiling as his eyebrows shot up. "No more being spread out naked on my bed, all alone, using my fingers as a poor substitute for —"

She broke off with a giggle as he muttered "bloody hell," hoisted her up on his shoulder and carried her to the bedroom. He set her gently on her feet at the foot of the bed, turning her away from him. Without a word, he moved her hair out of the way and slowly slid her zipper down, laying open-mouthed kisses along her skin from neck to lower back. She shivered as he straightened and pressed another kiss to the back of her neck, grazing the skin with his teeth, and slipped the dress off.

She stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside, turning to face him again. He shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and yanked his tie off, not taking his eyes off her. He started on the buttons of his shirt, but she stopped him, shaking her head.

"Let me," she said huskily. She'd wanted to get her hands on him for so long, and she made quick work of the buttons, tugging the shirt out of his pants and smoothing her hands back up his chest, fingers curling in the hair there.

"Emma, love, you're a vision," he breathed, licking his lips as his eyes moved over her form, clad only in champagne-colored bra and panties.

"Back at you," she said, pushing his shirt off his shoulders, reluctantly letting go of him so he could pull it all the way off and toss it aside. "But you're not naked enough."

He huffed out a laugh, and she slipped her shoes off as she watched him rid himself of shoes, socks and pants.

"Are those …" She clapped a hand over her mouth to hold back the laugh. "Iron Man boxers?"

She was amused to see the color on his cheeks as he scratched behind one ear. "They were a gag gift from Liam. No one else was meant to see them."

"You're adorable."

"Oi," he objected. "That's not what a man wants to hear when he's about to bed a woman. Anyway, it's not what's _on_ the boxers, Swan, it's what's _in_ them."

"I have been wondering about that," she admitted. "I mean, I've seen pretty much all the rest …"

"Well, love," he all but purred, "feel free to satisfy your curiosity." He stepped up to her and trailed his hands over her shoulders, the smirk on his face as cocky as hell.

With good reason, she realized, pushing his boxers down enough to free him from them. They both took shaky breaths as she encircled his hard, heavy length and slid her hand from tip to base and back again. She'd been pretty sure he was packing, but to actually see — and touch — for herself sent a shot of liquid heat between her thighs.

She wrenched her eyes up to his face, smiling as she saw his eyes were focused downward and he was swaying toward her again while pushing into her hand. He leaned his forehead against hers and tightened his fingers on her shoulders as she began to stroke him in earnest.

" _Fuck_ , Swan," he ground out, suddenly pulling her hand away. "Nope."

"No?" she said, faking a pout.

He tugged his boxers back up and walked her backward toward the bed, pushing her gently down on it. "We're just getting started here, love, and I don't want you distracting me."

She laughed and reached back to pop the clasp on her bra, tossing it away. "I thought distraction was the point?"

"The point," he said, his voice low and tight, "is that I intend to be deep inside you when I come, not in your hand."

"Oh." Again, she felt a wave of heat flush her body. How the hell could he be so cute and funny one minute and then dangerously sexy crawling toward her on the bed the next? "F-fair enough."

"Just to be clear," he said, leaning over her and settling between her thighs, "we _are_ officially dating now, correct? You're not going to try to kick me out in the morning or recruit some devilishly handsome neighbor to pretend to be your boyfriend?"

"Yes, Killian," she said. "I will go steady with you, but only if you promise to be my prom date."

"I'm serious, Emma."

She sighed, hooking a leg around his waist and pulling him more fully into the cradle of her hips. "I can't promise I'm not going to freak out about this," she told him honestly. "But I want to be with you, only you."

He smiled and brushed her hair out of her face. "You took the words right out of my mouth," he said before lowering his mouth to hers for a gentle kiss.

But she'd had enough of gentle, nipping his bottom lip and sliding a hand into his thick hair while she kissed him back hard. They moaned in unison as their hips rocked together, two thin layers the only barrier between them.

She reached for his waistband again and growled when he pushed to his knees and grabbed both of her wrists, pinning them over her head. "Not. Yet. Be patient."

"Patience isn't one of my virtues," she said.

"That's all right, I've got plenty for both of us. I don't suppose you want to tell me where those handcuffs are?" She smirked at him, and he shrugged. "I'll make do."

He shifted so that he was holding both wrists in one hand; honestly, she knew she could get free any time she wanted, but her heart still raced at the idea of being at his mercy. With a grin, he began to move over her, mouth and hand seemingly everywhere at once, seeking and finding all the spots that made her gasp and squirm. All the while he murmured over her skin, listing the virtues she did have: intelligence, beauty, compassion, sense of humor, loyalty, love.

By the time he let go of her wrists to move lower, slipping her panties off and continuing his exploration, she wouldn't even dream of trying to take control. She sighed and trembled as his hands glided over her feet and his lips and long fingers trailed up her calves and thighs until she was desperately clutching at the sheets beneath her.

"So beautiful," he whispered, finally cupping her sex, then slipping a finger into her wet heat. "So ready for me."

"Yes, yes, please." She tilted her hips toward him, seeking more, seeking _everything_ , and he added another finger, curling them both to drag in just the right spot inside her. She was close, so close, and she tried to tell him so, but the words turned to incoherent sounds in her mouth. She just needed a last push, and he gave it to her, lowering his mouth to her and flicking his tongue just right until she came apart with a sobbing gasp.

"God," she muttered. "Oh my God."

He smiled smugly, and she couldn't even bring herself to be mad because the man had played her like an instrument, and her whole body was humming. She kissed him eagerly when he moved back up to her, and this time he didn't stop her from rubbing him through his underwear.

"Condom?" he asked, nipping at her bottom lip.

She waved lazily at her bedside table. "Drawer."

He rolled off the bed and stripped his boxers off — farewell, Iron Man — yanking the drawer open. She watched him in all his naked glory, impatiently waiting for him to come back to her.

Killian moved back over her, and she widened her legs to take him in, hands moving to grip his biceps. He brushed a kiss over her mouth, then held her eyes as he sank into her, stretching her inch by glorious inch. Her nails dug into his arms as she adjusted to the size of him, the slight burn fading to a throbbing heat. He felt amazing. She hooked her ankles together behind his lower back, allowing him to go even deeper, pulling a low curse from him.

Slowly he began to move, pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting deep, cock dragging deliciously against her walls and filling her all the way up. Each thrust, he changed the angle a bit until he found just the right one, his grin all teeth as her back arched and toes curled, as she tightened her legs and tried to pull him deeper still, as she chanted his name.

Emma was never one to be noisy in bed, and she might be embarrassed later, but she'd never been with a man who knew — who cared, really — exactly what she needed.

"Oh my … Killian … fuck … that's perfect, don't stop, don't stop." She couldn't stop herself from begging him, and he took the encouragement and ran with it, moving faster and harder. She clutched his biceps with both hands as she tried to meet every thrust, unbearable tension coiling inside her.

"Come on, love," he muttered, hips stuttering slightly out of rhythm. He slipped a hand between them, thumbing at her where they were joined. "I need you to come for me, Emma."

She couldn't help but obey, shaking at the force of her orgasm, tightening her legs around him until he found his own release moments later.

* * *

They ended up where they always did, on the couch, eating cereal and watching a movie.

"We should have instituted Naked Movie Night long ago," Killian said as the credits rolled on "The Untouchables."

"We're not naked," she pointed out. They weren't totally dressed, either — she was only wearing his dress shirt and he'd put his boxers back on — but that wasn't the same as naked.

"Not yet, anyway," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her in an exaggerated leer that had her laughing and almost choking on a bite of Lucky Charms.

He was an idiot. _Her_ idiot, which actually didn't make her panic at all, much to her surprise.

"I forgot to mention, what with all the excitement of the wedding and getting into your knickers," he said. "After what you said to me, I decided to talk to Liam. I'm going to be starting university in the fall."

"You're going back to school! That's great!"

He shrugged, looking embarrassed. "Just part time. Taking some of the basics until I figure out a major."

"So I'm dating a college boy," she said, laughing. "Does that make me a cougar?"

He set his empty bowl aside and ran his tongue along his bottom lip, and she couldn't help but follow the movement with her eyes, completely missing what he said.

"I'm sorry?"

He looked at her strangely, but repeated himself. "I said, you know I'm going to introduce you to everyone we meet — even complete strangers on the street — as my girlfriend. My-Girlfriend-Emma is going to be your name now."

"That's okay," she said, and weirdly, it was. "I'm going to start introducing you to everyone we meet as my Iron Man. Let them draw their own conclusions."

He laughed. "I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?"

"Nope." She grinned and dropped her bowl on the coffee table next to his. She crawled over to him, straddling his lap, his shirt bunching up around her hips, giving him a sneak peek.

"Killian?"

He hummed, slipping a button open and grazing her skin with his fingertips.

She leaned closer and bumped her nose into his. "You big stud, take me to bed or lose me forever," she quoted.

He grinned, then pulled back and looked at her suspiciously. "Did you watch 'Top Gun' without me? You did!" he complained.

"Really?" She popped another button on the shirt, then a third one. "That's what you want to talk about right now?"

"No, I … but we agreed to watch that one toge—"

She put a finger over his mouth, not sure whether to be amused or insulted. "I promise, we will watch it later. I would take it as a huge personal favor if you would stop talking about this right now." She lifted her finger to her own mouth, tapping her lips. "Only, I can't imagine _what_ I might do to repay _that_ favor …"

He grinned again, undoing the remaining buttons on the shirt and slipping his hands beneath it, pulling her closer.

"Well now, Swan," he said, pressing a kiss to the skin above her heart, "I believe I can think of something."


End file.
